> Looking around the chaotic scene, one of the vines among the bushes caught Inky's eye. It was one of several bean plants probably native to the Tammineaux Forest, with strands of faintly glowing pods hanging from the vines.
>
> Inky snatches several of the dried but luminous bean pods from the vines, then sprints a wide circle around the centaur, all the while counting out 43 beans and throwing them into the topsoil, where much of the earth around the sinkhole had already been turned over by the gnomes' drills and machinery.
>
> Earlier in the commotion, one of the gnome explosions caused a water main leading towards what had been the kobit caves to burst. Water was now spraying across the area with the gusto of a fizzy cold spring and gathering in small pools over the soil. More water sluiced over the moth-like creature's singed wing, snuffing the remaining embers.
>
> Within moments, long tendrils shot up from the ground, which rapidly thickened at the bases to the size of young southern oak trees, to curl gently but firmly around the centaur. "Sister!" a melodious voice emanating from somewhere amid the beanstalks exclaimed, "What are you doing up? It is not yet autumn. Go back to sleep!"
The pooling water puts out any of the licking, reaching flames that followed the centaur up from below. The dark smoke carries the smell of ash, soot, and burnt popcorn up into the air.
There is no mistaking the climbing vines of the common Tammineaux Forest Bean. If you don't recognize it by the heart-shaped leaves or the winding stems, then the luminous, dangling seed pods nestled amongst the bulbous pink blossoms are a dead, somewhat obscene, giveaway.
Inky plucks a handful of the pods and rips them open, meticulously counting out a mystical number of individual beans, and sowing them in the ash and the mud.
Vines erupt from the ground and entangle the centaur, dragging it gently back toward the sinkhole and whispering a soothing lullaby in its ears. The centaur struggles weakly before surrendering to the vine's caress. It is pulled back down underground.
In the aftermath, there is a handful of leftover beans, and also some large, vibrant kernels of corn that flaked off the centaur during the struggle.
You and the first Ginnarak Crystal are able to leave the dig site and the Tammineaux Forest without further incident.
You pack up your faithful multibeast and trek back to the city of Vay'Nullar, where your adventure started.
THE END OF CHAPTER ONE
EPILOGUE: what are you doing in the final moments of this battle? Or on the way home? Or, what are you doing to rest, relax, and recover once safely back in town before reporting back to Blavin?
@ -74,9 +74,11 @@ You can unlock any template by satisfying its trigger in-game, provided you have
Example:
- 0. **Goblin Slayer** (Slay 100 goblins): You are now an expert when facing this foe. From now on when attacking a goblin, a roll of 5 - 6 is considered a critical success. 4 - 5 is a success. And 1 - 3 is a mixed success.
> Path of the Goblin Slayer
>
> - 0. **Favored Foe** (Slay 100 goblins): You are now an expert when facing this foe. From now on when attacking a goblin, a roll of 5 - 6 is considered a critical success. 4 - 5 is a success. And 1 - 3 is a mixed success.
The rank is 0, so there are no prerequisites. (If it had been, say, 2, then you would need to have unlocked a template of rank 1 and of rank 0 in the same path before unlocking this one.) The name is "Goblin Slayer". The trigger is "Slay 100 goblins". And the perk is detailed in the description.
The path is "Path of the Goblin Slayer". The rank of the first template is 0, so there are no prerequisites. (If it had been, say, 2, then you would need to have unlocked a template of rank 1 and of rank 0 in the same path before unlocking this one.) The name is "Favored Foe". The trigger is "Slay 100 goblins". And the perk is detailed in the description.
<p>While Inky packs the top of a sack with a thin layer of
earth from under a loose rock, they feel a heated glare in
their general direction for a few beats and surmises Master
Corraidhín had entered the vault with his newfound companion.
After decades of serving rather … demanding customers as an
inkling, Inky knew an evil eye directed at them even when they
can’t see it (while preparing a brew with their back turned,
for instance) and makes a mental note to give Pointy a wide
berth.</p>
<p>Once the sacks were placed close to the vault entrance for
a quick haul, Inky returns to the items that had been
discovered while digging under the loose rock. The set of
gold-nibbed quills were swiftly pocketed — each quill was
finely crafted and felt balanced when held in one hand. The
malleable tips in a range of sizes would be invaluable for
testing ink viscosity and smoothness, among other properties.
A felicitously fantastic find!</p>
<p>The jade tea set was next to be admired, its deep green hue
reflecting the age of the stone from which the items were
carved. With cups for every member of their merry group, the
teapot would make a worthy addition to any travelling,
crystal-seeking tea party. So thin and translucent were the
small cups, having been expertly crafted, that they were
almost too fragile to carry around everywhere. A
non-shattering charm was often applied to heirloom sets meant
to be passed down through generations, but it is difficult to
tell by looking whether a set had been charmed unless the
spell was a particularly strong one. The teapot and cups were
returned to the small wooden box they were found in and stored
away. Perhaps a few crockery talismans could be procured at
the next town?</p>
<p>Inky pauses at the rack of bottled ink. The first rule that
any inkling in training learns is to never trust pre-bottled
inks from unverified ingredients or unknown sauces. Inky tilts
the rack to better examine the weird yet vaguely familiar
glyphs on the bottles.</p>
<p>The first glyph was a circle with three dots. The bottle
next to it was adorned with a swirl, followed by a bottle with
a circle surrounding a pointing hand or a snail. Another glyph
looked like a twisted hook, and was that some sort of sinister
grinning reptile on the next one?? Towards the middle of the
rack was a bottle with a glyph of what could be a mountain
with a tunnel at its base. The bottle beside it bore a glyph
of a block broken to three pieces. Yet another bottle was
simply stamped with a circle and a dot at its center. Its
neighbour held a glyph that slightly resembled a mountain
range if someone stared very hard. The next two bottles bore
glyphs that looked like a spiky fish and a circle with a pair
of horns protruding from it. The last bottle’s contents seemed
more gooey than the others, with a glyph of a helmet-wearing
hare.</p>
<p>The shade of ink within the bottles varied, but all seem to
be derived from the same indistinct hue. None of the bottles
had the usual piece of ash paper with bits of string attached
to them, but otherwise appear to be intact and the vessels
themselves top quality, as shown by the delicate tarring on
the caps. The wooden rack was lightly worn but solid in Inky’s
hands.</p>
<p>It was certainly an odd collection. “No hash, no stash”
though, as the rule of thumb goes. Inky puts the rack down
carefully on the floor by the sacks, concluding that if anyone
wanted to help themselves to the bottles, they were hopefully
not planning to ingest the contents.</p>
<p>Dusting off their boots, Inky settles just behind the
banner, closer to the vault entrance and rousing performance,
to watch the crowd around Jarrod and listen for any sounds
from outside the vault.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>You pack up the quills and the jade tea set, and arrange
the bags by the vault entrance for quick retrieval.</p>
<p>As you carry the rack of ink bottles over to the bags, the
twelfth and final ink bottle, the one with the glyph of the
helmet-wearing hare, suddenly cracks. Seemingly of its own
volition. A tiny shard of glass slices the palm of your hand
and disappears into the meat at the base of your thumb. The
gooey ink seeps out of the bottle and paints your hand a
muddy, rusty blue.</p>
<p>You jerk your hand back. The ink is swiftly absorbed into
your hand as though it were a sponge. Soon it’s all gone: the
ink, the blood, all of it. Nothing remains of the scratch
itself but a hair-thin line. If you run your finger over it,
you can feel the hard nub of the glass shard beneath the
skin.</p>
<p>For a moment you can hear the double drum of your own
heartbeat rushing through your ears. Your senses seem to
sharpen. Colors grow more crisp, and sounds more clear. But
then it passes, and the moment is gone.</p>
<blockquote>
<p>Harrumph, pointy my friend, that’s just inky. They’re
definitely not super evil. That’s the finest ink craftsmen and
tea preparer this side of Basementaria. And we absolutely
won’t be stabbing them. There are FAR eviler things to stab,
potentially that weird naked thing that seems to think itself
a horse. I could be convinced IT was evil, but wouldn’t use
attacking it unprovoked make us evil? Surely a sword as
ancient and wise as you could see the perfectly puzzling
philosophical delimna we put ourselves in.</p>
<p>And then this thing, (corraidhin gestures at the crystal),
horrible magical item used to create untold death,
destruction, and mayhem during the last Artificer war.
Definitely probably evil, if used that way, but also filled
with untold power that could be used for good! Now would the
person weilding it be evil just because, or could someone
overcome the magical nature of a device capable of such evil
and apply them for good? I for one believe afirmatively that
one can overcome such things.</p>
<p>As corriadhin finishes his philosophical prattling to his
new stabby friend he pushes the glass case off the crystal and
grabs it.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>The Sword of Yam’l starts to launch into a long winded
reply.</p>
<pre><code>Oh yes, that winged naked thing is surely evil. Let us stab it, Hardy Bear! Let us stab and stab and stab until --- What's that? Oh no, don't worry. We are unquestionably, infallibly good. I was designed and made for but one purpose, after all. TO RID EVIL! As for the crystal, yes, I suppose you are correct. Wielding a powerful, bloodthirsty, magical item probably does make the wielder evil, and consequently immediately deserving of being stabbed! Say, speaking of stabbing ... that naked, winged thing--</code></pre>
<p>But then, before the sword can finish its thought (a
thought, you are quite confident, would end with something
like, “let’s stab it!”) you knock the glass dome off the
pedestal and grab the Ginnarak Crystal.</p>
<p>You brace yourself. It thrums slightly in your hand but
doesn’t do anything overtly magical or destructive. In fact it
seems perfectly inert.</p>
<p>So there you are. A pointer murder stick attached firmly to
one hand, and a potential atom bomb of a crystal in the other.
But you think you’re totally going to pull this off!</p>
<p>Then the glass dome hits the ground and shatters into
dozens of pieces.</p>
<p>HORSE screams and whips around at the noise.
“BhrruUHRHUuHRRh! My blue and gold melon sized gem! Noooooo!
BrUHrhHHHURHuRu!”</p>
<p>It flaps its wings and wheels up into the air and swoops
down at you! The three aurs get swept up in the excitement and
start flapping around, making tiny squeaks of alarm. The
remaining kobit leaps to its feet, but then trips over its
<p>While Inky packs the top of a sack with a thin layer of
earth from under a loose rock, they feel a heated glare in
their general direction for a few beats and surmises Master
Corraidhín had entered the vault with his newfound companion.
After decades of serving rather … demanding customers as an
inkling, Inky knew an evil eye directed at them even when they
can’t see it (while preparing a brew with their back turned,
for instance) and makes a mental note to give Pointy a wide
berth.</p>
<p>Once the sacks were placed close to the vault entrance for
a quick haul, Inky returns to the items that had been
discovered while digging under the loose rock. The set of
gold-nibbed quills were swiftly pocketed — each quill was
finely crafted and felt balanced when held in one hand. The
malleable tips in a range of sizes would be invaluable for
testing ink viscosity and smoothness, among other properties.
A felicitously fantastic find!</p>
<p>The jade tea set was next to be admired, its deep green hue
reflecting the age of the stone from which the items were
carved. With cups for every member of their merry group, the
teapot would make a worthy addition to any travelling,
crystal-seeking tea party. So thin and translucent were the
small cups, having been expertly crafted, that they were
almost too fragile to carry around everywhere. A
non-shattering charm was often applied to heirloom sets meant
to be passed down through generations, but it is difficult to
tell by looking whether a set had been charmed unless the
spell was a particularly strong one. The teapot and cups were
returned to the small wooden box they were found in and stored
away. Perhaps a few crockery talismans could be procured at
the next town?</p>
<p>Inky pauses at the rack of bottled ink. The first rule that
any inkling in training learns is to never trust pre-bottled
inks from unverified ingredients or unknown sauces. Inky tilts
the rack to better examine the weird yet vaguely familiar
glyphs on the bottles.</p>
<p>The first glyph was a circle with three dots. The bottle
next to it was adorned with a swirl, followed by a bottle with
a circle surrounding a pointing hand or a snail. Another glyph
looked like a twisted hook, and was that some sort of sinister
grinning reptile on the next one?? Towards the middle of the
rack was a bottle with a glyph of what could be a mountain
with a tunnel at its base. The bottle beside it bore a glyph
of a block broken to three pieces. Yet another bottle was
simply stamped with a circle and a dot at its center. Its
neighbour held a glyph that slightly resembled a mountain
range if someone stared very hard. The next two bottles bore
glyphs that looked like a spiky fish and a circle with a pair
of horns protruding from it. The last bottle’s contents seemed
more gooey than the others, with a glyph of a helmet-wearing
hare.</p>
<p>The shade of ink within the bottles varied, but all seem to
be derived from the same indistinct hue. None of the bottles
had the usual piece of ash paper with bits of string attached
to them, but otherwise appear to be intact and the vessels
themselves top quality, as shown by the delicate tarring on
the caps. The wooden rack was lightly worn but solid in Inky’s
hands.</p>
<p>It was certainly an odd collection. “No hash, no stash”
though, as the rule of thumb goes. Inky puts the rack down
carefully on the floor by the sacks, concluding that if anyone
wanted to help themselves to the bottles, they were hopefully
not planning to ingest the contents.</p>
<p>Dusting off their boots, Inky settles just behind the
banner, closer to the vault entrance and rousing performance,
to watch the crowd around Jarrod and listen for any sounds
from outside the vault.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>You pack up the quills and the jade tea set, and arrange
the bags by the vault entrance for quick retrieval.</p>
<p>As you carry the rack of ink bottles over to the bags, the
twelfth and final ink bottle, the one with the glyph of the
helmet-wearing hare, suddenly cracks. Seemingly of its own
volition. A tiny shard of glass slices the palm of your hand
and disappears into the meat at the base of your thumb. The
gooey ink seeps out of the bottle and paints your hand a
muddy, rusty blue.</p>
<p>You jerk your hand back. The ink is swiftly absorbed into
your hand as though it were a sponge. Soon it’s all gone: the
ink, the blood, all of it. Nothing remains of the scratch
itself but a hair-thin line. If you run your finger over it,
you can feel the hard nub of the glass shard beneath the
skin.</p>
<p>For a moment you can hear the double drum of your own
heartbeat rushing through your ears. Your senses seem to
sharpen. Colors grow more crisp, and sounds more clear. But
then it passes, and the moment is gone.</p>
<blockquote>
<p>Harrumph, pointy my friend, that’s just inky. They’re
definitely not super evil. That’s the finest ink craftsmen and
tea preparer this side of Basementaria. And we absolutely
won’t be stabbing them. There are FAR eviler things to stab,
potentially that weird naked thing that seems to think itself
a horse. I could be convinced IT was evil, but wouldn’t use
attacking it unprovoked make us evil? Surely a sword as
ancient and wise as you could see the perfectly puzzling
philosophical delimna we put ourselves in.</p>
<p>And then this thing, (corraidhin gestures at the crystal),
horrible magical item used to create untold death,
destruction, and mayhem during the last Artificer war.
Definitely probably evil, if used that way, but also filled
with untold power that could be used for good! Now would the
person weilding it be evil just because, or could someone
overcome the magical nature of a device capable of such evil
and apply them for good? I for one believe afirmatively that
one can overcome such things.</p>
<p>As corriadhin finishes his philosophical prattling to his
new stabby friend he pushes the glass case off the crystal and
grabs it.</p>
</blockquote>
<p>The Sword of Yam’l starts to launch into a long winded
reply.</p>
<pre><code>Oh yes, that winged naked thing is surely evil. Let us stab it, Hardy Bear! Let us stab and stab and stab until --- What's that? Oh no, don't worry. We are unquestionably, infallibly good. I was designed and made for but one purpose, after all. TO RID EVIL! As for the crystal, yes, I suppose you are correct. Wielding a powerful, bloodthirsty, magical item probably does make the wielder evil, and consequently immediately deserving of being stabbed! Say, speaking of stabbing ... that naked, winged thing--</code></pre>
<p>But then, before the sword can finish its thought (a
thought, you are quite confident, would end with something
like, “let’s stab it!”) you knock the glass dome off the
pedestal and grab the Ginnarak Crystal.</p>
<p>You brace yourself. It thrums slightly in your hand but
doesn’t do anything overtly magical or destructive. In fact it
seems perfectly inert.</p>
<p>So there you are. A pointer murder stick attached firmly to
one hand, and a potential atom bomb of a crystal in the other.
But you think you’re totally going to pull this off!</p>
<p>Then the glass dome hits the ground and shatters into
dozens of pieces.</p>
<p>HORSE screams and whips around at the noise.
“BhrruUHRHUuHRRh! My blue and gold melon sized gem! Noooooo!
BrUHrhHHHURHuRu!”</p>
<p>It flaps its wings and wheels up into the air and swoops
down at you! The three aurs get swept up in the excitement and
start flapping around, making tiny squeaks of alarm. The
remaining kobit leaps to its feet, but then trips over its
